As the snowfall thickened, the force of the wind from the northwest suddenly increased. It slammed into them with a blast of cold air that shoved them along as though they were no more than an insignificant piece of the horizontal curtain of white that surrounded them.
"I think we'd better wait this out," Jondalar shouted to be heard above the howl.
They fought to set up their tent while the icy blasts seized the small shelter, tore the stakes out of the ice, and left the tent billowing and flapping. The violent, sinewy wind threatened to rip the sheet of leather from the grasp of the two puny living souls trying to make their way across the ice, daring to present an obstacle to the furious, snow-choked blizzard raging across the flat surface.
"How are we going to keep the tent down?" Ayla asked. "Is it always this bad up here?"
"I don't remember it blowing this hard before, but I'm not surprised."
The horses were standing mutely, their heads down, stoically enduring the storm. Wolf was close beside them, digging out a hole for himself. "Maybe we could get one of the horses to stand on the loose end and hold it down until we get it staked," Ayla suggested.
With one thing leading to another, they came up with a makeshift solution, using the horses as both stakes and tent supports. They draped the leather tent over the backs of both horses, then Ayla coaxed Whinney to stand on one of the edges, turned under, hoping the mare wouldn't shift too much and let it up. Ayla and Jondalar huddled together, with the wolf under their bent knees, sitting, almost under the bellies of the horses, on the other end of the tent that was wrapped around underneath them.
It was dark before the squall blew itself out, and they had to camp for the night at the same place, but they set the tent up properly first. In the morning, Ayla was puzzled by some dark stains near the edge of the tent that Whinney had stood on. She wondered about them as they hurried to break camp early the next morning.
They made more progress the second day, in spite of climbing over pressure mounds of broken ice and working their way around an area of several yawning cracks, all oriented in the same direction. A storm blew up in the afternoon again, though the wind was not as strong, and it blew over more quickly, allowing them to continue their Journey during the late afternoon.
Toward evening, Ayla noticed that Whinney was limping. She felt her heart beat faster and a rush of fear when she looked closer and saw red smudges on the ice. She picked up Whinney's foot and examined her hoof. It was cut to the quick and bleeding.
"Jondalar, look at this. Her feet are all cut up. What did that to her?" Ayla said.
He looked, and then he examined Racer's hooves while Ayla was looking at the rest of Whinney's. He found the same kind of injuries, then frowned. "It must be the ice," he said. "You'd better check Wolf, too."
The pads of the wolf's paws showed damage, though not quite as bad as the horses' hooves. "What are we going to do?" Ayla said. "They're crippled, or will be soon."
"It never occurred to me that the ice could be so sharp it could cut up their hooves," Jondalar said, very upset. "I tried to think of everything, but I didn't think about that." He was stricken with remorse.
"Hooves are hard, but they're not like stone. More like fingernails. They can be damaged. Jondalar, they can't go on. They'll be so crippled in another day that they won't be able to walk at all," Ayla said. "We've got to help them."
"But what can we do?" Jondalar said.
"Well, I still have my medicine bag. I can treat their injuries."
"But we can't stay here until they're healed. And as soon as they start walking again, it will be just as bad." The man stopped and closed his eyes. He didn't even want to think what he was thinking, much less say it, but he could see only one way out of their dilemma. "Ayla, we're going to have to leave them," the man said, as gently as he could.
"Leave them? What do you mean, 'leave them'? We can't leave Whinney, or Racer. Where would they find water? Or food? There's nothing to graze on the ice, not even twig tips. They'd starve, or freeze. We can't do that!" Ayla said, her face showing her distress. "We can't leave them here like that! We can't, Jondalar!"
"You're right, we can't leave them here like that. It wouldn't be fair. They would suffer too much… but… we do have spears and the spear-throwers…"Jondalar said.
"No! No!" Ayla screamed. "I won't let you!"
"It would be better than leaving them here to die slowly, to suffer. It's not like horses haven't been… hunted before. That's what most people do."
"But these aren't like other horses. Whinney and Racer are friends. We've been through so much together. They've helped us. Whinney saved my life. I can't leave her."
"I don't want to leave them any more than you do," Jondalar said, "but what else can we do?" The idea of killing the stallion after traveling so far together was almost more than he could bear, and he knew how Ayla felt about Whinney.
"We'll go back. We'll just have to turn back. You said there was another way around!"
"We've already traveled two days on this ice, and the horses are almost crippled. We can try to go back, Ayla, but I don't think they will make it," Jondalar said. He wasn't even sure if Wolf would be able to make it. Guilt and remorse filled him. "I'm sorry, Ayla. It's my fault. It was stupid of me to think we could cross this glacier with the horses. We should have gone the long way around, but I'm afraid it's too late now."
Ayla saw tears in his eyes. She had not often seen him in tears. Though it was not so unusual for men of the Others to cry, it was his nature to hide those emotions. In a way, it made his love for her more intense. He had given of himself, almost completely, only to her, and she loved him for it, but she could not give up Whinney. The horse was her friend; the only friend she had had in the valley, until Jondalar came.
"We've got to do something, Jondalar!" she sobbed.
"But what?" He had never felt so desolate, so totally frustrated at his inability to find some solution.
"Well, for now," Ayla said, wiping her eyes, her tears freezing on her face, "I'm going to treat their injuries. I can do that much, anyway." She got out her otter-skin medicine bag. "We'll have to make a good fire, hot enough to boil water, not just melt ice."
She took the mammoth hide off the brown burning stones and spread it out on the ice. She noticed some scorch marks on the supple leather, but they hadn't damaged the tough old hide. She put the river rocks on a different spot, but near the middle, as a base upon which to build a fire. At least they didn't have to worry about conserving fuel any more. They could leave most of it behind.
She didn't talk, she couldn't, and Jondalar had nothing to say either. It seemed impossible. All the thought, planning, and preparation that had gone into the trek across this glacier, only to be stopped by something they hadn't even considered. Ayla stared at the small fire. Wolf crawled up to her and whined, not in pain, but because he knew something was wrong. Ayla checked his paws again. They weren't as bad. He had more control over where he put his feet, and he carefully licked off snow and ice when they stopped to rest. She didn't want to think about losing him, either.
She hadn't consciously thought of Durc for some time, though he was always there, a memory, a cold pain that she would never forget. She found herself musing about him. Has he started to hunt with the clan, yet? Has he learned to use a sling? Uba would be a good mother to him, she would take care of him, make his food, make him warm winter clothes.
Ayla shivered, thinking about the cold, then thought about the first winter clothes Iza had made for her. She had loved the rabbit skin hat with the fur worn on the inside. The winter foot-coverings had fur inside too. She recalled stomping around in a pair of new ones, and she remembered how the simple foot-coverings were made. It was just a piece of hide, gathered up and tied at the ankle. They conformed to the shape of the foot after a while, though at first they were rather clumsy, but that was part of the fun of new ones.
Ayla kept staring at the fire, watching the water start to simmer. Something was nagging her. Something important, she was sure. Something about…
Suddenly she drew in her breath. "Jondalar! Oh, Jondalar!"
She seemed agitated to him. "What's the matter, Ayla?"
"It's not what's wrong, it's what's right," she cried. "I just remembered something!"
He thought she was acting strangely. "I don't understand," he said. He wondered if the thought of losing her two horses was too much for her. She pulled at the heavy tarp of mammoth hide under the fire, knocking a hot coal directly onto the leather.
"Give me a knife, Jondalar. Your sharpest knife."
"My knife?" he said.
"Yes, your knife," she said. "I'm going to make boots for the horses!"
"You're going to do what?"
"I'm going to make boots for the horses, and Wolf, too. Out of this mammoth hide!"
"How do you make horse boots?"
"I'll cut circles out of the mammoth leather, then cut holes around the edges, thread some cord through, and tie it around the horses' ankles. If mammoth hide can keep our feet from getting cut up by the ice, it's bound to protect theirs," Ayla explained.
Jondalar thought for a moment, visualizing what she described; then he smiled. "Ayla! I think it will work. By the Great Mother, I think it will work! What a wonderful idea! Whatever made you think of it?"
"That's the way Iza made boots for me. That's how the people of the Clan make foot-coverings. Hand-coverings, too. I'm trying to remember if that's the kind Guban and Yorga wore. It's hard to tell, because after a while they shape to your feet."
"Will that hide be enough?"
"It should be. While I've got the fire going, I'll finish preparing this remedy for the cuts, and maybe some hot tea for us. We haven't had any for a couple of days, and we probably won't again until we get down off this ice. We're going to have to conserve fuel, but I think a cup of hot tea would taste very good right now."
"I think you're right!" Jondalar agreed, smiling again and feeling good.
Ayla very carefully examined each hoof on both horses, trimmed away the rough places, applied her medication, then tied the mammoth-hide horse boots on them. They tried to shake off the strange foot-coverings at first, but they were tied on securely, and the horses quickly got used to them. Then she took the set she had made for Wolf and tied them on. He chewed and gnawed at them, trying to get rid of the unfamiliar encumbrances, but after a while he stopped fighting them, too. His oversize wolf feet were in much better shape.
The next morning they loaded a slightly lighter pack on the horses; they had burned some of the brown coal, and the heavy mammoth hide was now on their feet. Ayla unloaded them when they stopped for a rest, and she took on a little more of the load herself. But she couldn't begin to carry what the sturdy horses could. In spite of traveling, their hooves and feet seemed much improved by that night. Wolf's seemed perfectly normal, which was a great relief for both Ayla and Jondalar. The boots provided an unexpected benefit: they acted as a kind of snowshoe when there was deep snow, and the large, heavy animals didn't sink in as far.
The pattern of the first day held, with some variation. They made their best time in the morning; the afternoons brought snow and wind of varying intensity. Sometimes they were able to travel a little farther after the storm, other times they had to stay where they stopped in the afternoon through the night, and on one occasion for two days, but none of the blizzards were as fierce as the one they had encountered the first day.
The surface of the glacier wasn't quite as flat and smooth as it had appeared on that first glistening day in the sun. They floundered through deep drifts of soft powdered snow piled high from localized snowstorms. Other times, where driving winds cleared the surface, they crunched over sharp projections and slid into shallow ditches, their feet catching in narrow spaces and their ankles twisting under them on the uneven surface. Instant squalls blew down without warning, the fierce winds almost never let up, and they felt constant anxiety about unseen crevasses covered over with flimsy bridges or overhanging cornices of snow.
They detoured around open cracks, especially near the center, where the dry air held so little moisture that the snows were not heavy enough to fill the crevasses. And the cold, the deep, bitter, bone-chilling cold, never let up. Their breath froze on the fur of their hoods around their mouths; a drop of water spilling from a cup was frozen before it touched the ground. Their faces, exposed to raw winds and bright sun, cracked, peeled, and blackened. Frostbite was a constant threat.
The strain was beginning to tell. Their responses were beginning to deteriorate, and so was their judgment. A furious afternoon storm had held on into the night. In the morning, Jondalar was anxious to get under way. They had lost much more time than he had planned. In the bitter cold, it took longer for the water to heat, and their supply of burning stones was dwindling.
Ayla was going through her backpack; then she began searching around her sleeping fur. She couldn't remember how many days they had been on the ice, but as far as she was concerned, it was too many, she thought as she searched.
"Hurry up, Ayla! What's taking you so long?" Jondalar snapped.
"I can't find my eye protectors," she said.
"I told you not to lose them. Do you want to go blind?" he exploded.
"No, I don't want to go blind. Why do you think I'm looking for them?" Ayla retorted. Jondalar snatched her fur up and shook it vigorously. The wooden goggles fell to the ground.
"Be careful where you put them next time," he said. "Now let's get moving."
They quickly packed up their camp, but Ayla sulked and refused to talk to Jondalar. He came over and double-checked her lashings, as he usually did. Ayla grabbed Whinney's rope and started out taking the lead, moving the horse away before Jondalar could examine her pack.
"Don't you think I know how to pack a horse myself? You said you wanted to get moving. Why are you wasting time?" she flung back over her shoulder.
He had just been trying to be careful, Jondalar thought angrily. She doesn't even know the way. Wait until she wanders around in circles for a while. Then she will come asking me to lead, he thought, falling in behind her.
Ayla was cold and fatigued from the grueling march. She plunged ahead, careless of her surroundings. If he wants to hurry so much, then we'll hurry, she thought. If we ever get to the end of this ice, I hope I never see a glacier again.
Wolf was nervously racing between Ayla in the lead and Jondalar following behind. He didn't like the sudden change in their positions. The tall man had always started out ahead before. The wolf struck out ahead of the woman, who was trudging blindly on, oblivious to everything except the miserable cold and her injured feelings. Suddenly he stopped directly in front of her, blocking her way.
Ayla, leading the mare, went around him. He ran back around and stopped in front of her again. She ignored him. He nudged at her legs; she shoved him aside. He ran ahead a short distance, then sat down whining to get her attention. She plodded past him. He raced back toward Jondalar, pranced and whined in front of him, then bounded a few steps toward Ayla, whining, then advanced toward the man once more.
"Is something wrong, Wolf?" Jondalar said, finally noticing the animal's agitation.
Suddenly he heard a terrifying sound, a muffled boom. His head shot up as fountains of light snow filled the air ahead.
"No! Oh no!" Jondalar cried out in anguish, running forward. When the snow settled, a lone animal stood on the brink of a yawning crack. Wolf pointed his nose straight up and wailed a long, desolate howl.
Jondalar threw himself flat on the ice at the edge of the crevasse and looked over the edge. "Ayla!" he cried in desperation. "Ayla!" His stomach was a hard knot. He knew it was useless. She would never hear him. She was dead, at the bottom of the deep crack in the ice.
"Jondalar?"
He heard a small frightened voice coming from far away.
"Ayla?" He felt a rush of hope and looked down. Far below him, standing on a narrow ice ledge that hugged the wall of the deep trench, was the terrified woman. "Ayla, don't move!" he commanded. "Stand perfectly still. That ledge could go, too."
She's alive, he thought. I can't believe it. It's a miracle. But how am I going to get her out?
Inside the icy chasm, Ayla leaned in toward the wall, clinging desperately to a crack and a projecting piece, petrified with fear. She had been plodding through snow halfway to her knees, lost in her own thoughts. She was tired, so tired of it all: tired of the cold, tired of fighting her way through deep snow, tired of the glacier. The trek across the ice had drained her energy, and she was bone-weary with exhaustion. Though she struggled on, her only thought was to reach the end of the massive glacier.
Then she was startled out of her brooding thoughts by a loud crack. She felt the sickening sensation of the solid ice giving way beneath her feet, and she was suddenly reminded of an earthquake many years before. Instinctively she tried to reach for something to hold on to, but the falling ice and snow offered nothing. She felt herself dropping, nearly suffocating in the midst of the avalanching snow bridge that had collapsed beneath her feet, and she had no idea how she had ended up on the narrow ledge.
She looked up, afraid to move even that much, for fear the slightest shift in weight would jar her precarious support loose. Above, the sky looked almost black, and she thought she saw the faint glimmerings of stars. An occasional sliver of ice or puff of snow dropped belatedly from the edge, finally letting go of its precarious hold and showering the woman with fragments on the way down.
Her ledge was a narrow jutting extension of an older surface long buried by new snows. It rested on a large jagged boulder that had been torn from solid rock as the ice slowly filled a valley and overflowed down the sides of an adjacent one. The majestically flowing river of ice accumulated great quantities of dust, sand, gravel, and boulders that it gouged out of hard rock, which were slowly carried toward the faster-moving current at the center. These moraines formed long ribbons of rubble on the surface as they moved along the current. When the temperature eventually rose enough to melt the massive glaciers, they would leave evidence of their passage in ridges and hills of unsorted rock.
While she was waiting, afraid to move and holding herself very still, she heard faint mutterings and muted rumblings in the deep icy cavern. She thought at first that she imagined them. But the mass of ice was not as solid as it seemed on the hard surface above. It was constantly readjusting, expanding, shifting, sliding. The explosive boom of a new crack opening or closing at some distant point, on the surface or deep within the glacier, sent vibrations through the strangely viscous solid. The great mountain of ice was riddled with catacombs: passages that came to an abrupt halt, long galleries that turned and twisted, dropped off or soared upward; pockets and caves that opened invitingly, then sealed shut.
Ayla began to look around her. The sheer walls of ice glowed with a luminous, unbelievably rich blue light that had a deep undertone of green. With a sudden jolt, she realized she had seen that color before, but in only one other place. Jondalar's eyes were the same rich, stunning blue! She longed to see them again. The fractured planes of the huge ice crystal gave her the sensation of mysterious flitting movement just beyond her peripheral vision. She felt that if she turned her head quickly enough she would see some ephemeral shape disappearing into the mirrored walls.
But it was all illusion, a magician's trick of angles and light. The crystal ice filtered out most of the red spectrum of the light from the burning orb in the sky, leaving the deep blue-green, and the edges and planes of the tinted, mirrored surfaces played games of refraction and reflection with each other.
Ayla glanced up when she felt a shower of snow. She saw Jondalar's head extending beyond the rim of the crevasse, then a length of rope came snaking down toward her.
"Tie the rope around your waist, Ayla," he called, "and make sure you tie it well. Let me know when you're ready."
He was doing it again, Jondalar said to himself. Why did he always recheck what she did when he knew she was more than capable of doing it herself? Why did he tell her to do something that was perfectly obvious? She knew the rope had to be tied securely. That was why she had gotten angry and stomped off ahead and was now in this dangerous predicament… but she should have known better.
"I'm ready, Jondalar," she called, after wrapping it around her and fastening it with many knots. "These knots won't slip."
"All right. Now hang on to the rope. We're going to pull you up," he said.
Ayla felt the rope grow taut, then lift her from the ledge. Her feet were dangling in air as she felt herself slowly rising toward the edge of the crevasse. She saw Jondalar's face, and his beautiful, worried blue eyes, and she gripped the hand he held out to her to help her over the rim. Then she was on the surface again, and Jondalar was crushing her in his arms. She clung to him as tightly.
"I thought you were gone for sure," he said, kissing and holding her. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Ayla. I know you can load your own packs. I just worry so much."
"No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have been so careless with my eye protectors, and I should never have rushed ahead of you like that. I'm still not familiar with ice."
"But I let you, and I should have known better."
"I should have known better," Ayla said at the same time. They smiled at each other at the inadvertent matching of words.
Ayla felt a tug at her waist and saw that the other end of the rope was fastened to the brown stallion. Racer had pulled her out of the crevasse. She fumbled to untie the knots around her waist while Jondalar held the sturdy horse close by. She finally had to use a knife to cut the rope. She had made so many knots and had pulled them so tight – and they'd grown even tighter as she was lifted out – that they were impossible to untie.
Detouring around the crack that had so nearly proved disastrous, they continued their southwesterly course across the ice. They were growing seriously concerned as their supply of burning stones was becoming depleted.
"How much longer before we reach the other side, Jondalar?" Ayla asked in the morning after melting water for them all. "We don't have many burning stones left."
"I know. I had hoped that we would be there by now. The storms have caused more delay than I planned on, and I'm getting worried that the weather will turn while we are on the ice. It can happen so fast," Jondalar said, scanning the sky carefully as he spoke. "I'm afraid it may be coming soon."
"Why?"
"I got to thinking about that silly argument we had before you fell into the crevasse. Remember how everyone was warning us about the evil spirits that ride ahead of the snow-melter?"
"Yes!" Ayla said. "Solandia and Verdegia said they make you feel irritable, and I was feeling very irritable. I still do. I am so sick and tired of this ice, I have to force myself to keep going. Could that be what it is?"
"That's what I was wondering. Ayla, if it's true, we have to hurry. If the foehn comes while we're up on this glacier, we may all fall into the cracks," Jondalar said.
They tried to ration the peaty brown stones more carefully, drinking their water barely melted. Ayla and Jondalar started carrying their waterbags full of snow underneath their fur parkas so their body heat would melt enough for them and Wolf. But the conservation wasn't enough. Their bodies couldn't melt enough for the horses that way, and when the last of the burning stones were gone, there was no water for the horses. She had run out of feed for them, too, but water was more important. Ayla noticed them chewing ice, but it worried her. Both dehydration and eating ice could chill them so that they wouldn't be able to maintain sufficient body heat to keep warm on the freezing cold glacier.
Both horses had come to her looking for water, after they had set up their tent, but all Ayla could do was give them a few sips of her own water and break up some ice for them. There had been no afternoon storm that day, and they had kept going until it was almost too dark to see. They had traveled a good distance, and should have been glad, but she felt strangely uncomfortable. She had trouble getting to sleep that night. She tried to shrug it off, telling herself she was just worried about the horses.
Jondalar lay awake for a long time, too. He thought the horizon was looking closer, but he was afraid it was wishful thinking and didn't want to mention it. When he finally dozed off, he awoke in the middle of the night to find Ayla wide awake, too. They got up at the first faint shift from black to blue, and they started out with stars still in the sky.
By midmorning the wind had shifted, and Jondalar was sure his worst fears were about to materialize. The wind wasn't so much warm as less cold, but it was coming from the south.
"Hurry, Ayla! We've got to hurry," he said, almost breaking into a run. She nodded and kept up with him.
By noon the sky was clear, and the brisk breeze blowing in their faces was so warm that it was almost balmy. The force of the wind increased, enough to slow them down as they leaned into it. And its warmth blowing across the cold surface of the ice was a deadly caress. The drifts of dry powdery snow became wet and compact, then turned to slush. Little puddles of water began to form in small depressions on the surface. They became deeper and took on a vivid blue color that seemed to glow out of the center of the ice, but the woman and man had no time, or heart, to appreciate the beauty. The horses' need for water was easily satisfied, but it gave them little comfort now.
A soft mist began to rise, clinging close to the surface; the driving, warm south wind carried it away before it could get too high. Jondalar was using a long spear to feel the way ahead, but he was still almost running, and Ayla was hard-pressed to keep up. She wished she could jump on Whinney's back and let the horse carry her away, but more and more cracks were opening in the ice. He was almost certain the horizon was closer, but the low-lying fog made distances deceptive.
Little rivulets began streaming over the surface of the ice, connecting the puddles and making footing treacherous. They splashed through the water, feeling its icy chill penetrate, then squish through their boots. Suddenly, a few feet in front of them, a large section of what had seemed to be solid ice fell away, exposing a yawning gulf. Wolf yipped and whined, and the horses shied away, squealing with fear. Jondalar turned and followed the edge of the crack, looking for a way around.
"Jondalar, I can't keep going. I'm exhausted. I've got to stop," Ayla said with a sob, then started crying. "We'll never make it."
He stopped, then went back and comforted her. "We're almost there, Ayla. Look. You can see how close the edge is."
"But we almost walked into a crevasse, and some of those puddles have become deep blue holes with streams falling into them."
"Do you want to stay here?" he said.
Ayla took a deep breath. "No, of course not," she said. "I don't know why I'm crying like this. If we stay here, we'll die for sure."
Jondalar worked his way around the large crack, but as they turned south again, the winds were as strong as any from the north had been, and they could feel the temperature rising. Rivulets turned into streams crisscrossing the ice and grew into rivers. They worked their way around two more large cracks and could see beyond the ice. They ran the last short distance, and then they stood looking down over the edge.
They had reached the other side of the glacier.
A waterfall of milky clouded water, glacier milk, was just below them, gushing out of the bottom of the ice. In the distance, below the snowline, was a thin cover of light green.
"Do you want to stop here and rest a while?" Jondalar asked, but he looked worried.
"I just want to get off this ice. We can rest when we reach that meadow," Ayla said.
"It's farther than it looks. This is not the place to rush or be careless. We'll rope ourselves together, and I think you should go first. If you slip, I can support your weight. Pick a way down carefully. We can lead the horses."
"No, I don't think we should. I think we should take off their halters and packs, and the pole drag, and let them find their own way down," Ayla said.
"Maybe you're right, but then we'll have to leave the packs here… unless…"
Ayla saw where he was looking. "Let's put everything in the bowl boat and let it slide down!" she said.
"Except a small pack with some necessities that we can take with us," he said, smiling.
"If we tie it all down well, and watch which way it goes, we should be able to find it."
"What if it breaks up?"
"What would break?"
"The frame could crack," Jondalar said, "but even if it did, the hide would probably hold it together."
"And whatever was inside would still be all right, wouldn't it?"
"It should be." Jondalar smiled. "I think that's a good idea."
After the round boat was repacked, Jondalar picked up the small pack of essentials while Ayla led Whinney. Although somewhat fearful of slipping, they walked along the edge looking for a way down. As if to make up for the delays and dangers they had endured in the crossing, they soon found the gradual slope of a moraine, with all its gravel, that appeared possible, just beyond a somewhat steeper grade of slick ice. They dragged the boat to the icy slope; then Ayla unfastened the travois. They removed all the halters and ropes from both animals, but not the mammoth-hide horse boots. Ayla checked them to make sure they were securely tied; they had conformed to the shape of the horses' hooves and now fit snugly. Then they led the horses to the top of the moraine.
Whinney nickered, and Ayla calmed her, calling her by the whinny name she was most familiar with, and she spoke in their language of signals and sounds and made-up words. "Whinney, you need to make your own way down," the woman said. "No one else can find your footing on this ice better than you can."
Jondalar reassured the young stallion. The descent would be dangerous, anything could happen, but at least they had gotten the horses across. They would have to get themselves down. Wolf was pacing nervously back and forth along the edge of the ice, the way he did when he was afraid to jump into a river.
With Ayla's urgings, Whinney was the first to go over the edge, picking her way carefully. Racer was close on her heels and soon outdistanced her. They came to a slick spot, slipped and slid, gained momentum, and moved down faster to keep up. They would be down safely – or not – by the time Ayla and Jondalar reached the bottom.
Wolf was whining at the top, his tail tucked between his legs, not ashamed to show the fear he felt as he watched the horses go.
"Let's push the boat over and get started. It's a long way down, and it won't be easy," Jondalar said.
As they pushed the boat near the steeper icy edge, Wolf suddenly jumped in it. "He must think we're getting ready to ride across a river," Ayla said. "I wish we could float down this ice." They both looked at each other and started to smile. "What do you think?" Jondalar said.
"Why not? You said it should hold together."
"But will we?"
"Let's find out!"
They shifted a few things around to make room, then climbed into the bowl-shaped boat with Wolf. Jondalar sent a hopeful thought to the Mother, and, using one of the travois poles, they pushed off.
"Hold on!" Jondalar said as they started over the edge.
They gained speed quickly, but headed straight ahead at first. Then they hit a bump and the boat bounced and spun around. They swerved sideward, then rode up a slight incline and found themselves in midair. They both screamed with the fearful excitement. They landed with a jolt that lifted them all up, the wolf included, then spun around again while they clutched the edge. The wolf was trying to crouch down and poke his nose over the side at the same time.
Ayla and Jondalar held on for all they were worth; it was all they could do. They had absolutely no control over the round boat that was racing down the side of the glacier. It zigged and zagged, bounced and spun around as though leaping with joy, but it was heavily loaded, bottom heavy enough to resist tipping over. Though the man and woman screamed involuntarily, they couldn't help smiling. It was the fastest, most thrilling ride either of them had ever taken, but it was not over.
They didn't think about how the ride would end, and, as they neared the bottom, Jondalar remembered the usual crevasse at the foot separating the ice from the ground below. A hard landing on gravel could throw them out and cause injury, or worse, but the sound didn't make an impression on him when he first heard it. It wasn't until they landed with a hard bump and a huge splash into the middle of a roaring waterfall of cloudy water that he realized their descent down the wet slippery ice had taken them back toward the river of meltwater that was gushing out of the bottom of the glacier.
They landed at the bottom of the falls with another splash, and soon they were floating calmly in the middle of a small lake of cloudy green glacier melt. Wolf was so happy that he was all over both of them, licking their faces. He finally sat down and lifted his head in a howl of greeting.
Jondalar looked at the woman, "Ayla, we made it! We made it! We're over the glacier!"
"We did, didn't we?" she said, smiling broadly. "That was a dangerous thing to do, though," he said. "We could have been hurt, or even killed."
"It may have been dangerous, but it was fun," Ayla said, her eyes still sparkling with excitement.
Her enthusiasm was contagious, and for all his concern about getting her home safely, he had to smile. "You're right. It was fun, and fitting, somehow. I don't think I'll ever try to cross a glacier again. Twice in one lifetime is enough, but I'm glad I can say I did it, and I'll never forget that ride."
"Now, all we have to do is reach that land over there," Ayla said, pointing toward the shore, "and then find Whinney and Racer."
The sun was setting, and, between the blinding brightness at the horizon and twilight's deceptive shadows, it was difficult to see. The evening chill had brought the temperature to below freezing again. They could see the comforting security of the black loam of solid ground, intermixed with patches of snow, around the perimeter of the lake, but they didn't know how to get there. They had no paddle, and they had left the pole on top of the glacier.
But although the lake seemed calm, the fast-flowing glacial melt gave it an undercurrent that was slowly taking them toward the shore. When they were close, they both jumped out of the boat, followed by the wolf, and pulled it up on the land. Wolf shook himself, spraying water, but neither Ayla nor Jondalar noticed. They were in each other's arms, expressing their love and their relief at having actually reached solid ground.
"We did make it. We're almost home, Ayla. We're almost home," Jondalar said, holding her, grateful that she was there to be held.
The snow around the lake was beginning to refreeze, turning soft slush into hard-crusted ice. They walked across the gravel in the near dark holding hands, until they reached a field. There was no wood for a fire, but they didn't care. They ate the dry concentrated traveling food that had been their sustenance on the ice, and they drank water from bags filled on the glacier. Then they set up their tent and spread out their sleeping furs, but before they settled in, Ayla looked across the darkened landscape and wondered where the horses were.
She whistled for Whinney and waited to hear the sound of hooves, but no horses came. She looked up at the swirling clouds above and wondered where they were, then whistled again. It was too dark to look for them now; it would have to wait until morning. Ayla crawled into her sleeping furs beside the tall man and reached for the wolf who was curled up beside her place. She thought about the horses as she sank into an exhausted sleep.
The man looked at the tousled blond hair of the woman beside him, her head resting comfortably in the hollow beneath his shoulder, and he changed his mind about getting up. There was no longer a need to keep moving, but the absence of worry left him at loose ends. He had to keep reminding himself they were over the glacier; they didn't have to hurry any more. They could lie around in their sleeping furs all day if they wanted to.
The glacier was behind them now, and Ayla was safe. He shivered at the thought of her close call, and he tightened his hold on her. The woman raised herself up on her elbow and looked at him. She loved looking at him. The dim light inside the hide tent softened the vivid blue of his eyes, and his forehead, so often knotted in concentration or concern, was relaxed now. She ran a finger lightly across the worry lines, then traced his features.
"Do you know, before I saw you I tried to imagine how a man would look. Not a man of the Clan, one like me. I never could. You are beautiful, Jondalar," she said.
Jondalar laughed. "Ayla, women are beautiful. Not men."
"What is a man then?"
"You might say he's strong, or brave."
"You are strong and brave, but that's not the same as beautiful. What would you call a man who is beautiful?"
"Handsome, I suppose." He felt a little embarrassed. He had been called handsome too often.
"Handsome. Handsome," she repeated to herself. "I like beautiful better. Beautiful I understand."
Jondalar laughed again, his rich, surprisingly lusty laugh. The uninhibited warmth of it was unexpected, and Ayla caught herself staring at him. He had been so serious on this trip. Though he had smiled, he'd seldom laughed out loud.
"If you want to call me beautiful, go ahead," he said, pulling her closer to him. "How can I object to a beautiful woman calling me beautiful?"
Ayla felt the spasms of his laughter, and she started giggling. "I love it when you laugh, Jondalar."
"And, I love you, funny woman."
He held her after they stopped laughing. Feeling her warmth and soft full breasts, he reached for one and pulled her down so he could kiss her. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and felt herself respond with a surprising hunger for him. It had been some time, she realized. All the time they were on the glacier, they both had been so anxious and so exhausted that they hadn't been in the mood, or able to relax enough to get there.
He sensed her eager willingness and felt his own sudden need. He rolled her over as they kissed; then, moving the furs out of the way, he kissed her throat and neck on the way to finding her breast. He enclosed her hard nipple with his mouth and suckled.
She moaned as a sharp shiver of unbelievable Pleasure charged through her with an intensity that left her gasping. She was stunned by her own reaction. He had barely touched her, and she was ready, and she felt so eager. It hadn't been that long, had it? She pushed herself toward him.
Jondalar reached down to touch her place of Pleasures between her thighs, felt her hard knob and massaged it. With a few cries, she reached a sudden peak, and was there, ready for him, wanting him.
He felt her sudden moist warmth, and understood her readiness. His need had risen to match hers. Pushing at the furs to get them out of the way, she opened to him. He reached for her deep well with his proud manhood and entered.
She pulled him to her as he thrust forward, penetrating deeply. He felt her full embrace, and she cried out with her joy. She had needed him, and he felt so right, it was beyond delight, more than Pleasure.
He was as ready as she. He pulled back, then thrust again, and only once more, and suddenly, there was no holding back. He felt the surge rise, reach, and overflow. With a last few motions, he drained himself, then pushed in, and relaxed on top of her.
She lay still with her eyes closed, feeling his weight on her, and feeling wonderful. She didn't want to move. When he finally got up and looked down at her, he had to kiss her. She opened her eyes and looked up at him.
"That was wonderful, Jondalar," she said, feeling languid and satisfied.
"It was fast. You were ready; we were both ready. And you had the strangest smile on your face just now."
"That's because I'm so happy."
"I am, too," he said, kissing her again, then rolling onto his side.
They lay together quietly and dozed off again. Jondalar woke before Ayla did, and he watched her while she slept. The strange little smile appeared again and made him wonder what she was dreaming of. He couldn't resist. He kissed her softly and caressed her breast. She opened her eyes. They were dilated, dark and liquid, and full of deep secrets.
He kissed each eyelid, then nibbled playfully at an earlobe and then a nipple. She smiled at him when he reached for her mound and felt her soft hair, receptive, if not quite ready again, making him wish they were just beginning instead of just through. Suddenly he held her tight, kissed her fiercely, stroked her body, her breasts and hips and thighs. He could hardly keep his hands away from her, as though coming so close to losing her had created a need as deep as the crevasse that almost took her. He couldn't touch her enough, hold her enough, love her enough.
"I never thought I'd fall in love," he said, relaxing again and idly caressing the dip at the small of her back and the smooth mound beyond. "Why did I have to travel beyond the end of the Great Mother River to find a woman I could love?"
He had been thinking about that ever since he woke up and realized they were almost home. It was good to be on this side of the glacier, but he was full of anticipation, wondering about everyone, and eager to see them.
"Because my totem meant you for me. The Cave Lion guided you."
"Then why did the Mother cause us to be born so far apart?"
Ayla lifted her head and looked at him. "I've been learning, but I still know very little about the ways of the Great Earth Mother, and not much more about the protective spirits of the Clan totems, but I know this: you found me."
"And then I almost lost you." A sudden rush of cold fear clutched at him. "Ayla, what would I do if I lost you?" he said, his voice hoarse with the emotion he seldom showed openly. He rolled over, covering her body with his, and buried his head in her neck, holding her so tightly she could hardly breathe. "What would I do?"
She clung to him, wishing there was some way she could become a part of him, and she gratefully opened herself to him when she felt his need swell again. With an urgency as demanding as his love, he took her as she came to him with a need as driving.
It was over even more quickly, and with the release, the tension of their fierce emotion melted into a warm afterglow. When he started to move aside, she held him, wanting to cling to the intensity of the moment.
"I wouldn't want to live without you, Jondalar," Ayla said, picking up the conversation begun before their lovemaking. "A piece of me would go with you to the spirit world, I'd never be whole again. But we're lucky. Think of all the people who never find love, and those who love someone who cannot love them back."
"Like Ranec?"
"Yes, like Ranec. I still hurt inside when I think of him."
Jondalar rolled over and sat up. "I feel sorry for him. I liked Ranec – or I could have." Suddenly he was eager to be moving. "We'll never get to Dalanar's this way," he said, starting to roll up sleeping furs. "I can't wait to see him again."
"But first, we have to find the horses," Ayla said.